


The future is made with moments like these

by bwolves



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwolves/pseuds/bwolves
Summary: It didn’t really hit her until she was running errands with Nate and doing laundry with Farah -- yes, this was her life now. Because I was denied a week of domestic Unit Bravo and MC Detective cohabitation. Also, FemaleMC/Adam.





	The future is made with moments like these

 

Set after the MC gets back from the Agency, but before the Murphy confrontation, when the MC has their around-the-clock guard and the story skips a week. All the domestic cohabitation that I envisioned during that time because wow these characters are so great and I just want more of them.

 

* * *

 

It was two days into Detective Michaela Deane’s around-the-clock, personal vampire detail when she realized her milk was past its expiration.

“Hey guys, just running to the store,” she announced, shrugging on a jacket and pulling her no longer high ponytail (it had been a long day) out from under it. “It’s right around the corner. I’ll be back in 10.”

“Sure,” Adam answered, not even looking up from whatever papers he was pouring over. “Nate?”

The vampire in question lifted himself up from the floor (analyzing a rather large map of Wayhaven; her apartment was limited on table surfaces) and stretched, giving her an affable nod. “Milk spoiled while you were at the Agency, huh?” He said speculatively. “And we should probably pick up some eggs while we’re out too.”

“If you are getting groceries, can you get some of those chips you had earlier?” Farah requested, clearly feeling the most at home fully sprawled on the couch. “Or maybe the pickle flavored ones? I’ve never tried those. They seem fun.”

Michaela tilted her head, the ghost of a smile on her face. “Okay, Farah, we’re going to come back to the pickle chip thing at some point, but first…” She fixed her gaze on Adam for several long seconds as he still refused to look up from his papers. It was an act, she was sure. From the way his eyes moved, he had to be reading the same sentence over and over again.

Things had been different with them since their conversation at the Agency (when he got angry and she got real because as much as they clashed, he had to know she respected him). She thought they were on the same page now, but it had been a long day (as she had mentioned) and grumpy Adam was still grumpy Adam and stubborn Michaela was still stubborn Michaela.

When he still ignored her (asshole), she sighed and crossed her arms. “I really can’t run to the convenience store by myself?”

He finally looked up to give her one of his patented Adam du Mortain glares (god, if only he didn’t have such pretty eyes) and returned to reading.

“Cute,” Michaela commented. “You know, it’s right down the block. If anything happens, I can literally yell for you guys. Hell, you’ll probably be able to hear the rustle of the chip bag as I pick it up.”

“So you  _ are _ gonna get the chips,” Farah confirmed with an innocent grin.

Adam rolled his eyes at Farah’s comment, but didn’t deign a response, instead focusing on the detective. “Don’t care,” he answered. “One of us has eyes on you at all time. I have my orders.”

She pursed her lips, eyes sliding to Nate, as if gauging how important this fight was. The taller vampire shrugged. “I could use the fresh air, to be honest.”

Michaela relented, mostly in the face of Nate’s smile. It was impossible to not.

She grabbed her messenger bag from the chair across from Adam, sending him a wordless glare nonetheless. “Kay, let’s go, Nate.”

 

* * *

 

As Michaela was soon learning, morning routines with the whole crew was sometimes a bit too much to handle.

She emerged from her bedroom, bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, to find the crew in their various arrangements -- Farah looking more sluggish than usual on the couch (apparently even vampires could be not morning people), Nate reading a book in the armchair in the corner, and Morgan occupying Adam’s usual perch by the window, keeping watch and flicking her lighter open and shut, almost as a ritual to keep her from smoking (Michaela had to enforce some rules in her own apartment).

“Morning, sunshine,” Farrah greeted, albeit weakly, head hanging upside down over the side of the couch. 

Michaela made a noise in response that she supposed could be taken as a greeting, which she deemed sufficient. 

Nate seemed to find the whole thing charming and he looked up from his book with a smile, head tilted. “How’d you sleep?”

She made another noise, this time one of desperation, to which Nate raised a hand in protest. “Okay, never mind. I’ll leave you be.”

It took about 15 minutes of rummaging around her bathroom and then silently munching on cereal out of a bowl (with her newly purchased milk) for Michaela to feel up to speaking words.

“Where’s Commanding Agent Tightass?” She finally asked, gesturing toward the window where Adam would typically sit.

Nate grinned. “Chasing down a lead. He’s been out all morning.”

Michaela nodded, continuing to chew on her cereal placidly, close to the end of her breakfast.

“Gonna head out to the office soon?”

She nodded at his next question. “Tina says there’s a few reports of weird activity from the townspeople. Gonna spend all day sorting through the noise.”

“As if any of it will be helpful,” Morgan groused, hackles up, probably grumpy because she couldn’t smoke or maybe for no reason at all. It was Morgan.

Michaela sighed the heavy, weary sigh of a woman with the weight of the world on her shoulder, standing with her bowl to bring it back to the kitchen. Upon her departure, she was sure to throw a middle finger behind her, directed at Morgan, to show her exactly what she thought of her attitude on this fine morning.

Farah barked out a laugh and Nate grinned, and Michaela heard Morgan’s voice follow her into the kitchen.

“First time I’ve ever respected you, Deane.”

 

* * *

 

 

Michaela entered the station looking like she’d seen better days, she was sure, not that anyone at the station would comment on it. Douglas gave her the same moon eyes as always, much to her alarm (hopefully he would snap out of it soon), and Tina appeared to be running late.

Adam and Nate were already sitting at the table outside her office, heads together as they conferred, and Michaela gave them both a nod as she walked in.

She was settling in at her desk when she noticed the coffee already sitting on it, cup warm to the touch so she knew it couldn’t have been put there any more than ten or fifteen minutes ago. Hesitating, she poked her head out of her door, gesturing with the coffee.

“Anyone know how this coffee appeared on my desk?”

She wanted to drink it very badly (it was almost a necessity), but a mysterious coffee on her desk on a rough morning would be the  _ ideal  _ way to sneak past her defenses and poison her, so caution was required.

Adam shrugged without looking up, while Nate shot a surreptitious glance at his oldest friend, looking like he wanted to say something.

Michaela looked thoughtful. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll ask Douglas if he saw anything because I really would like to drink it.”

“It was Nate,” Adam announced, rather suddenly. “He got it.”

The detective’s gaze shifted to Nate, who, albeit surprised, seemed to go along with it, leaning back in his chair and nodding good-naturedly. “Yup, it was me.”

“He, uh, noticed you were tired this morning,” Adam continued, gesturing with the hand holding the pencil and seeming less… articulate than usual. “So he picked up the coffee on his way here.”

“Uh-huh,” Michaela said, eyes darting between the two of them. “Well, thanks,  _ Nate _ . It’s loads better than the office coffee. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“No problem,” he nodded, and Adam went back to work, shoulders hunched over a bit more stiff than before. 

She had pulled out her phone and was texting Nate before she even fully sat down in her office chair.  _ So this is what the commanding agent looks like when he cares. _

Nate’s answer came a bit later in the day, when he and Adam had broken their meeting.  _ Yeah, sorry he’s so weird about it. He thinks you can’t function without coffee. Hope it was good. _

_ He’s not wrong,  _ she texted back, having made little progress in sorting through the various wild goose chase leads brought on by the town residents.  _ Tell him he should put in a full sugar packet less next time. I’m a one cream, one sugar kind of girl. _

_ Noted. _

 

* * *

 

“You can stop looking like my secret service agent,” Michaela commented, giving Adam a onceover that only made her look away in slightly embarrassment for being so blatant after the fact. Damn her for not thinking with her actual brain.

It was a Sunday morning and that was the only excuse she needed, to be honest.

He shifted his stance, scowling at her words, but his eyebrows drew down at the way she looked at him, as if trying to figure out if he had read that situation correctly.

She grinned, jumping on the distraction. “You know, the scowl is only proving my point.” She grabbed the sleeve of her leather jacket and brought it up to her mouth, speaking into the pretend radio there. “This is Agent du Mortain to home base, subject is still being difficult. I repeat, she is still being difficult.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“Oh hey, pot, meet kettle,” she shot back, although more teasing than confrontational. Then she huffed. “Like you’re so easy.”

She was sure he was smiling, although she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of checking, and she moved onto the next stand of vegetables. Nate had made her leave with a list of groceries, including a section of straight vegetables (broccoli, carrots, lettuce, enough variation that a rabbit would be overwhelmed). Something about her health. And the fact that the pizza boxes had been piling up in her apartment and taking out the trash was the new garlic (to vampires). Michaela had had an entire lifetime of experience avoiding taking out the trash.

She moved to the avocados, examining the selection. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adam fidget. She brought her hand up to her mouth again.

“Agent du Mortain to home base again, I swear she is squeezing every last avocado at the store just to waste my time.”

He huffed a laugh, to her surprise, and his stance relaxed somewhat. “You really do just need to pick one.”

“Finding the right avocado is an endeavor  _ fraught _ with dangers,” she answered, meeting his gaze in mock seriousness. “I’m looking out for my own safety.”

His gaze turned to the avocados and he started picking through them as well, helping her find the right one. “Hm,” he hummed, strangely soft around the edges in a way she wasn’t used to. “I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

She mock-gasped now, although she couldn’t hide her grin. “Ah, subtly shading Adam instead of confrontational Adam. There’s a new look.”

He shrugged, shooting her a wry look. “You have a very suppressed survival instinct.” After a moment, he picked one avocado in particular, handing it to her. “This one.”

She took it and tested for herself. “Hm, I think we have a winner, then. Thanks.”

He ducked his head in a nod of acknowledgement. “No problem.”

She moved on to the next item on her list, Adam trailing her, and she spent a quiet moment bagging up broccoli while she let her brain hum and process and think.

"You’ve been sending Nate and Farah with me a lot,” she said, putting the bag of broccoli in her cart. It was a comment, but Adam could tell what she was getting at.

“Better conversationalists,” he explained, now gazing around at the other vegetable options. “And you seem to enjoy yourself around them.”

"Yeah,” she said, eyeing him as he perused the brussel sprouts all on his own. “But, uh, I don’t mind going places with you.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to this, so his strategy seemed to be to look even more carefully at the brussel sprouts in question, as if some of them may be ready to step out of line at any moment.

She cleared her throat, looking down at her list for what was next. “I mean, just for the record. If you were keeping track.”

“You should get some brussel sprouts too,” Adam finally said, when she hadn’t been expecting a response from him anymore, like they were having two different conversations.

She looked up, wildly confused. “I don’t like brussel sprouts.” After a moment, her brain made the next jump. “And why do you care if I eat brussel sprouts?”

He looked at her almost chastisingly. “Because. They’re good for you. You have to take care of yourself if you’re going to be of any use to any of us.”

“I take care of myself fine,” Michaela protested.

“You don’t,” he answered bluntly.

“I’ve made it to 28 years old fine on my own.”

Adam made a mildly annoyed face. “Okay, let me know when you get to 200.”

Maybe it would have been nicer for him to just say that he enjoyed her presence too, but she’d take what she could get. Offended about her wellbeing Adam wasn’t a bad Adam to have around.

 

* * *

 

“Hm, Detective Deane, I do say I’ve never seen you wear this,” Farah announced, voice all scandal and outrage as she held up the most little black dress that Michaela owned (an impulse purchase enabled by Tina when they both decided, yes, Michaela’s dating life had been painfully bleak).

“Farah,” Michaela said, scandalized in response. Except not really, the dress had gotten her laid that night. Not that Farah needed to know that.

“No, it’s a compliment,” she said brightly. “You should definitely wear it. I mean, your current leather jacket/dark wash jeans combo is still working for you, but this would definitely spruce your style up a bit.”

“Okay, accompanying me to the laundromat does not give you license to do an inventory of my clothes.”

“And just think about the look on our fearless leader’s face if he saw you in this –“

“Farah!” Michaela said, pointing a finger at her friend.

“Hm, sorry,” the vampire nodded knowingly, pantomiming sipping her mouth shut. “I’m not supposed to talk about that.”

“Thank you,” Michaela said, continuing to gather the clothes littering her floor into her laundry basket.

About ten seconds of silence existed before Farah metaphorically unzipped her mouth again because Michaela had absolutely no chance of enforcing a rule like that. “But just think of how satisfying that would be to leave him speechless, especially after all the bickering you two do, it’s like he always has  _ a  _ last word, no matter what –“

“Farah, seriously!”

“Oh, please, you love it,” she said in satisfaction, then huffed at Michaela’s stoic expression. “Fine. I’ll save the gossip for Morgan.”

The detective rolled her eyes. “Oh, she’ll love that.”

Farah hung the dress back up in the closet and moved back to Michaela’s bed, bouncing down on it as she looked for further entertainment. After a few moments of Michaela sorting through a few sets of socks on the floor (yes, they all needed to be washed), she posed another question.

“Did you pick this bedspread out yourself?” She asked, curious, as always.

Michaela turned to find Farah tracing the pattern with her finger, seemingly oddly fascinated with the concept of human domesticity.

“Yeah, one of my college friends helped me,” she explained. “when I first moved into this apartment. It was a few years ago now.”

“It’s a pretty pattern,” she commented. “When you aren’t a complete mess, you do seem to have good taste.”

Michaela sighed. “Thanks, Farah. I’m taking that as about 50% of a compliment.”

“You should,” she answered sunnily, then feel silent again for a few moments. “Maybe my room at the Agency could use a bit more sprucing up, you know? That could be fun.”

Michaela pushed her mound of clothes deeper into the bag to fit everything, then stopped what she was doing to process what Farah was saying, because it had that tone that she used when something was light-hearted, except not really. She looked up at her friend, who was still tracing the patterns on her bedspread. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” she nodded, tightening the tie on her bag. “And I don’t know what our situation will be after this is all over, but..” She shrugged. “I’d love to help.”

Farah grinned, thrilled. “I’m going to hold you to that, Kay.”

Michaela raised an eyebrow. “That’s a new nickname.”

“Once again, a compliment,” she said, falling back to stretch out on Michaela’s bed now. “Only my friends get nicknames.”

“Okay,  _ friend, _ ” Michaela grinned, poking the vampire’s foot closest to her. “Let’s go, I’m ready for the laundromat.”

 

* * *

 

Unit Bravo might be her protection detail, but that didn’t mean Michaela shouldn’t manage up sometimes. 

“I’ll raise your three cheerios,” Farah announced, looking positively gleeful, “to five.”

Nate eyed his teammate across the table suspiciously, then glanced between his dwindling pile of cheerios and the large pot that had accumulated on the table.

“Take her,” Morgan said, almost immediately, in a somewhat bored way.

“Hey, you folded, stay out of it,” Farah scolded her, even going as far as to stick out her tongue.

Morgan smirked. “He doesn’t have to believe me. Maybe I’m backing your bluff.” She tilted her head at Farah, seemingly enjoying this. “Or maybe I just know exactly when you are lying and when you’re not lying.”

Farah huffed. “Seriously, playing with Morgan is too unfair. She’s our interrogations expert for goodness sake.” 

Nate peeked at his cards again, then looked at the three card currently on the table, and turned to the detective. “What do you think my move should be?”

Michaela, in all her glory, was sitting on a small pile of cheerios (although not nearly as many as Morgan), spoon from her finished bowl of ice cream sticking out of her mouth, with Adam’s aviators perched on the bridge of her nose. She actually had a fairly difficult time seeing anything, in fact, since her apartment wasn’t particularly well lit in the first place, but it was worth it for that poker aesthetic. And also because she actually managed to convince Adam to give them up. That was a victory in itself.

Partially to play devil’s advocate, but also because she liked Nate quite a bit and wanted him to stay in the game, she nodded. “Yeah, take her. You have to.”

A few moments later, the last two cards were down and Nate emerged victorious, much to Farah’s dismay. In the chatter of post-hand victory, Michaela craned her head behind her to make eye contact with Adam, who was keeping watch by the window, eyebrows drawn down in thought. At Michaela’s look, he rolled his eyes and took a few steps closer to her chair, appraising the game.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

She turned around fully, having stolen the swivel chair from her desk in her room after Farah accidentally broke one of her chairs in an effort to entertain herself (again, she tried not to ask to many questions). Appraising him with a grin and removing the spoon from her mouth, she nodded. “Very.”

He tilted his head to the side and smiled briefly and she knew it had everything to do with his team being happy. He really was such a sucker, in the end. “Hm, you’ve turned my team into a mess.”

“We all need down time, Agent du Mortain,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Let me know if you ever feel like taking any, you know, like a normal person.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Normal vampire,” she corrected. “You know what I meant.”

“One of us should be on watch, at least,” he explained, reciting it like he’d been telling himself that in his head as well.

“I know,” she said, without teasing this time, since she was genuinely touched by how seriously he was taking her safety. “But you know you could always switch off. Make one of them do it. You can still join.”

He hesitated because she could tell he didn’t want to tell her no, but this was just where he felt most comfortable. He shrugged. “I don’t want to take them away.”

“Uh-huh,” she answered, looking at him knowingly. “Control freak.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest. She knew she could have him playing in a heartbeat with a challenge or subtle dig at his poker playing skills, but she was content to let him be for now.

“Well, at least your shades are coming in handy,” she informed him. “Very crucial poker playing tool.”

“Right, especially when you are playing against vampires who can hear your heartbeat.”

She smiled in response. “Exactly.”

He appraised her carefully, hand reaching out to tap the side of the glasses. “You look good in them.”

Her mouth felt rather dry all of a sudden as she looked back at him. “Yeah?”

Beside her, Nate cleared his throat rather loudly and aggressively, which startled both her and Adam out of  _ something,  _ whatever shit they had going on right now that had her heart beating a mile a minute in a way that had nothing to do with lying (well, still lying she supposed, but mostly lying to herself). 

“Ah, yeah, hey, next hand?” Michaela asked, as Adam retreated to the window. Nate handled it with grace, but Farah absolutely  _ had  _ to giggle like she was in elementary school, which harmonized fairly well with Morgan’s groan.

They’d been around each other  _ way  _ too much.

 

* * *

 

 

Thanks for reading!

 


End file.
